


Shance Week 2016

by eutrash (AreteNike)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Compliant, M/M, Shance Week 2016, Shance Week 2016: Confidence/Insecurity, Shance Week 2016: Hero/Villain, Shance Week 2016: Pining/Confession, dark!shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreteNike/pseuds/eutrash
Summary: Collection of fills for Shance Week prompts!1: Pining/Confession2: Hero/Villain3: Confidence/Insecurity4: AUs5: Battle Scars6: Dance/Fashion/Music7: First glance/Last touch





	1. day 1: friends

**Author's Note:**

> i dont feel like coming up with real titles for each thing and theyre all gonna be really short anyway so im shoving 'em all into one "fic" lol. ill warn for any content in the chapter summaries but i dont anticipate needing to.

Lance honestly thought that working up the courage to tell him would be the _hardest_ part, not the easiest.

The first time, it was Pidge. Lance had just stepped out of the flight school, another successful run under his belt, but his car was in the shop, so Shiro had offered him a ride home. The plan? Suggest they go out for a drink or maybe dinner; he could let it slip then, or when Shiro dropped him off at night. It’d be perfect.

But he sees Pidge grinning at him from the front seat of Shiro’s car and all his plans go down the drain.

“I thought we’d surprise you with dinner,” Shiro says when Lance climbs in the back–his pleas to switch with Pidge on account of his longer legs fall on deaf ears. “Keith and Hunk are coming, too.”

“Sweet,” Lance says, summoning all his enthusiasm, and it does turn out to be a fun evening, but he doesn’t get to say what he wants to.

The second time, it was Hunk. He’d invited Shiro over for a movie night/cooking lesson, which started out great–until the doorbell rang, and Hunk was at the door.

“Sorry!” Hunk says, when Lance lets him in and he sees Shiro there in the kitchen (lightly coated in flour). “I didn’t know you had plans! I mean, you’re always free.” Thanks, Hunk.

“I don’t mind,” says Shiro, and he rubs his nose and leaves a smudge of batter behind, fuck that’s cute.

“Uh, yeah, you might as well join us,” Lance says after a moment. He can’t exactly turn away his best friend, after all. And they have a great time, but Lance _still_ doesn’t get to say it.

The third time, it was Keith. This time Shiro had invited Lance over for dinner, as a thank you for the cooking lesson. Except Lance arrives, and there’s Keith, lying on Shiro’s couch like he owns the place.

“Hiding from his roommate,” Shiro explains. Lance thinks he might cry. But he puts on a brave face and tries to keep the bickering to a minimum, for Shiro’s sake–keyword is _tries_ –and it’s not a bad evening after all. But, uh, he hasn’t said it yet, and he’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever get the chance.

So when Shiro calls to ask if he wants a ride to the Holts’ place for a hangout, he accepts his fate. Either he’s gotta ask in front of everyone, or not at all. 

Pidge lets them in with a grin, and shouts over her shoulder, “They’re here!”

“Eyy!” Hunk shouts back.

“Come on,” says Pidge, and she leads them into the living room, where Hunk, Keith, and Matt are already hanging out. They exchange greetings, and Lance sits on the couch next to Shiro.

As if on some unseen cue (which there probably was), everyone but him and Shiro stand. Lance freezes.

“We think you guys have something to talk about,” Pidge says, grinning evilly.

“Good luck, you two!” Hunk says, and then they leave. They walk right out of sight into the dining room and leave Lance and Shiro just, sitting there.

Lance turns to Shiro, _mortified_. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Shiro beats him to it.

“Lance, uh,” he says, looking down at his hands. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

It takes a good thirty seconds to process that _that happened._

Lance jumps up off the couch, startling Shiro, but before he can say anything Lance shouts, “Yes!”

“O-oh.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to ask you out for a _month_ , oh my god,” Lance says, sitting back down. And Shiro’s shocked face relaxes into a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Pidge shouts from around the corner. “We’ve been watching you guys dance around each other for _ages!_ ”

“You were taking too long!” Keith adds. Lance looks at Shiro. Shiro looks at Lance. And they burst out laughing. So much for their friends getting in the way!


	2. day 2: ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated version [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10794210).

Vigilante justice doesn’t pay the bills. 

…Unless you find the people that want a job done and have money and you don’t ask too many questions.

So yeah, maybe Lance has a bit of a reputation–but if you want something done, he’s the guy to ask, as long as you can pay. And hey, reputation is how anyone knows who he is at all; reputation he can _monetize_. Which is why he’s a little pissed when some guy in a hero outfit–or a villain one, it’s hard to say–just grabs him and tells him to come along to some disturbance downtown.

“Aren’t you a hero too?” the guy asks.

“You must be new around here,” says Lance. “I only work for _money_ , dude.”

“This is for the greater good!”

A hero, then. “Yeah, don’t care. Good luck, though.”

The guy has the audacity to purse his lips and look him up and down. “Nope. You’re coming with me,” he says, and grabs Lance by the wrist and drags him along. Geez, he’s strong–big deal, Lance can ice him over.

Except he can’t.

“The fuck’s up with your hand?” he asks, because it glows purple when Lance tries to use his powers–emphasis on _tries_.

“Nullification,” the guy says shortly. Shit, didn’t there used to be a villain that could do that not that long ago?

“Uh, who are you?”

“Oh.” The guy looks away. Suspicious. “I, uh, haven’t come up with a name yet.” He’s leading them quickly down the street–civilians duck out of the way, staring.

“Right,” Lance says, now slightly convinced he’s going to die. “Okay.”

So, against his will, he arrives at the scene of the fight–which is still ongoing, despite that it took them several minutes to get here, which is definitely not a good sign. And a villain swoops by and he _recognizes_ the guy, which is _worse_.

This isn’t some petty squabble between supers. This is an actual _battle_.

“Get out there,” nullifier guy says, finally letting go of Lance’s arm. “I’ll be watching you.”

Fantastic.

But, apparently, so are a lot of civilians, behind windows, with their phones out. Hm.

“If that’s what you want,” Lance says, smoothly, _coldly_ , and he goes to town. 

See, he has a reputation–so that’s his first advantage: surprise. No one expects him to be here. They also don’t expect him to go all out. And they don’t know he’s positioning himself where the brave few with their cameras on will get, on occasion, a _very_ good look at him.

All publicity is good publicity, after all.

Also he sees the guy that brought him here fight and _oh_ , he definitely knows who he is now.

“You did better than I expected,” the guy says, when the battle is over and the villains subdued or chased off. “See? It’s never too late to turn your life around.”

“If you say it, I believe it, _Champion_.”

The former Champion stutters, but Lance just grins, throws an arm around his shoulders, and winks at a camera still glinting through a nearby window.

“You’re right. Let’s do this again sometime.”


	3. day 3: help

Lance knows he’s not the best pilot on the team, though he’d never admit it out loud. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that Shiro asks him, kindly, “Do you want me to give you some tips? I can help.”

And Lance says “Yes” before it gets through his head that _Shiro_ is offering him _one-on-one_ coaching and oh, yeah, he’s got a _huge, debilitating crush_ on the guy.

Woops.

But he _does_ want to get better and he very much wants to spend more time with Shiro so, for better or worse, he doesn’t back out. Which is how he finds himself sitting in the blue lion with Shiro clinging to the back of his chair, kind of like the first time he flew her except it’s just the two of them and he’s possibly _more_ nervous this time.

“Pay attention to your angle,” Shiro suggests, reaching past him to fiddle with something on the dash. Lance doesn’t see what, because Shiro’s arm is right next to his face, and Shiro has _really_ nice arms, fuck. Er, arm. 

“Lance?”

Oh shit, he’s still staring. “Uh, yeah, angle, right.” He reaches blindly in the direction Shiro was, hoping his fingers will land on the right thing.

“ _This_ one,” Shiro says, and actually _takes his hand_ and places it on the right dial. Lance freezes up completely. _He touched me, he touched me, he touched me…!_

Augh, focus. He actually looks at what he’s touching, and experimentally turns it a bit. It doesn’t seem to do much of anything.

“Try turning,” Shiro suggests.

He does. The lion wobbles ominously until he frantically reaches for the dial again and turns it back the other way; it stabilizes, and so does his heart rate.

“Great job, Lance.” Woop, nevermind, there it goes again.

“Haha, yeah, thanks. I mean. Totally, man, I knew it’d do that. I did it on purpose.”

He’s babbling, but Shiro just chuckles.

“You’re doing well,” he says. “I think if you’re just a little more attentive–ah, left, left!”

Lance blinks and swerves left, narrowly avoiding some kind of rocky outcropping. “Shiiiit, sorry.”

“As I was _saying_ ,” Shiro continues, taking a deep breath, “you could improve a lot just by paying more attention.” He gestures out the windshield at the rocks they’re skimming by.

“Hard when you’ve got arms like that,” Lance mutters under his breath.

“…What?”

“Ah! Nothing!” Shit. Shit. Oh, Lance is probably as red as Keith’s lion now. He did  _not_ mean to say that aloud.

Shiro calmly reaches over and puts his hand over Lance’s, and pulls back on the controls until they’re at a standstill, hovering above the planet’s rocky surface. Then he leans back against the dash and folds his arms, looking down at Lance. Lance looks very determinedly elsewhere.

“Lance…”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Did you actually want my help, or did you accept for… other reasons?”

“What? No!” Lance does look up at that. “I really do want to get better! I know I’m not, y'know, a _natural_ like Keith, or some kind of prodigy like you, but I’m trying, okay!? I’m trying.”

Shiro blinks. “Oh. I shouldn’t have implied… I’m sorry.”

“No, whatever, it’s fine.” Lance pouts at the dash. “You _do_ have nice arms, but I didn’t agree to this because of that, I swear.”

“…So I didn’t mishear.”

Lance should maybe stop talking. “Forget I said anything, oh my god.” He reaches for the controls but Shiro’s hand intercepts him.

“Mm, I’d rather not.”

“Um.” Lance is _this close_ to imploding, god, can’t he just land and escape somewhere to recover from the embarrassment, _please_.

“I think you’re cute.”

It takes a moment to sink in, and then Lance squeaks–actually squeaks–in embarrassment. “How can you just _say_ that? Oh my god!”

Shiro laughs. “How about,” he says, “you land, and we chat some more?”

“Shit, yep, okay, absolutely, let’s do that,” Lance says, and reaches for the controls again, and this time Shiro doesn’t stop him–just watches with a smile.


	4. day 4: names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated version [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10794363).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a follow up to day 2!!

It's been a solid six months since Lance became a "hero" instead of a super-for-hire--well, he's still available for hire. But now his partner gives him this disappointed look if it's not a "good" job. To be expected of a guy that chose "Paladin" for his hero name, Lance figures.

Or to be expected of a guy that used to be a villain and wants to clean up his reputation, but why the hell he'd hang around Lance with that goal is anyone's guess. Like, is Lance a charity case or what?

Lance wants to know. Why the guy sticks around, that is. And to know that, he's gonna have to catch him off duty--which means finding out his secret identity.

Straight up asking is probably not the best way to go about this, but... Lance gives it a shot.

"Hey," he says, as the police drag off their latest catch, before Paladin leaves. "What do you do when you're not out heroing?"

"Aren't secret identities kept secret for a reason?"

The way he says it, it sounds like an actual question and not a passive aggressive dismissal. Progress?

"From the public, yeah, but we're a team, right? I mean, I know of three hero couples _at least_ who got married for real."

"I thought you didn't like being in a team with me." Paladin grins at him.

"Eh, you've grown on me." Lance shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Besides, we've got the alliterative thing going. Permafrost and Paladin. It's aesthetically pleasing."

Paladin snorts. "I see." And then he looks around and says, lowly, "You'd really trust me with your secret identity?"

"Hey, man, I'm no angel either, but it's been like six months. I trust you," Lance says easily. "And it's not like I'm asking for your social security number. I was just curious how you pay the bills, y'know?"

"Hm."

"I'll even go first," says Lance, grinning. "I'm a barista."

"...I can see that," Paladin says. "I'm, ah... a teacher. A professor, actually."

Lance claps his hands to his face. " _Really?_ Oh my god."

"Really! But, speaking of--I need to go."

"Sure."

And Paladin jogs off. So. A professor. But shit, Lance can't exactly go and stalk the local college. There's like five local colleges, for one thing.

So, personal progress, but it doesn't actually get him any closer to finding out why Paladin hasn't ditched him yet.

So next time they meet, he maybe kind of accidentally-on-purpose wonders aloud, "My coffee shop is near a couple of colleges, I wonder if we've actually seen each other before?"

"Focus, Frosty."

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that!"

Paladin blocks an incoming blow with his nullifying hand, and then literally picks the guy up and flings him across the street. "It's faster than 'Permafrost'," he says casually.

Across the street, their attacker is now unconscious, and his buddies have fled. There are sirens in the distance.

"Buddy," Lance says, patting him on the shoulder with a hand that's still icy. "I'm gonna need you to cool down."

"Huh?"

"Because that was really hot." He finger-guns at a bemused Paladin, backing away, until he's far enough to just leave. And, woops, he sidetracked himself that time--still no answer.

But the real kicker is when he's working--he wasn't lying about being a barista. And in walks a guy that's built just like Paladin, except he's wearing a button up shirt and glasses. This a Clark Kent if Lance has ever seen one. And his _hair_ is two-toned, just like Paladin's.

But now, how to be sure it's him?

The guy comes up to the counter, and Lance grins. "Hey, _pal_ ," he says. Oh man, he totally thought the hair was part of the costume.

The guy starts, then squints at him. "Ah... you should chill out...?" he says, very tentatively. Lance grins even wider.

"Damn right I should," he says, and winks. "Can I take your order?"

Paladin smiles. "Small iced coffee, please."

"You sure? It's a little _chilly_ out."

"Oh, I like the cold."

Nice. "What a coincidence! So do I." He scribbles on a plastic cup. "Name?"

"Shiro."

Ha! Of all the places to run into your partner in anti-crime, Lance is really glad this happened in a coffee shop.

"Shi-ro," he says. "Comin' right up."

"Thanks... Lance," Shiro says with a smile, and pays. And he goes and sits a table to wait for his order.

Okay. They've got names and faces now. He's just gotta get him into some kind of actual conversation...

To Lance's surprise, Paladin--Shiro--actually seems to be amenable to conversation... if the way he lingers in the shop, sitting at the table long after he's finished his coffee, is any indication. He doesn't seem surprised when Lance comes and sits across from him after his shift ends, either.

"Soooo... Shiro," Lance says.

"That's me."

"What do you teach?"

"History," Shiro says easily. "Ancient, specifically."

"Heh. That's unexpected."

He shrugs. "It is what it is."

Lance drums his fingers on the table and frowns. There's a lot he wants to say, but they're in public, and secret identities are secret for a reason.

"I _am_ glad to meet you, by the way," Shiro says quietly. "I probably haven't given you that impression, but it's true."

"You did seem pretty reluctant," Lance says.

"Well, then I'll say it now: I'd like to spend time with you outside of work."

Lance's eyebrows shoot way up. Shiro smiles.

"So _that's_ why you stick around, huh?" Lance asks.

"Hm?"

"I mean, if you were trying to, uh, clean up your act, I wasn't exactly the best partner to pick, right?"

"Heh. No, you're right," Shiro says. "So yes, I guess that _is_ why."

"Huh." Lance sits back in his chair. Of all the reasons, that's certainly not what he expected. "Alright. I'm down."

"Then," Shiro says, sliding a little piece of paper across the table, "I hope I'll see you soon." And he gets up and leaves, while Lance picks up the paper.

It's got a phone number on it.


	5. day 5: beach

One, it's a private beach.

Two, the only ones here are friends, who don't even stare at his arm anymore.

Three, it's a very, very, _very_ hot day.

Shiro still doesn't want to take off his shirt. He wants to go swimming, he really does, but he also doesn't want to get his shirt wet--and he doesn't want to show off the mess of scars on his torso. Not that he doesn't have visible scars elsewhere, but...

"C'mon, Shiro!" Pidge yells from the water. He just waves at her, and watches as she climbs up Hunk's back to sit atop his shoulders. Lance immediately shouts, "CHICKEN!" and tries to get on Keith's shoulders with much yelling from all parties.

Shiro laughs from the beach. Pidge and Hunk win, because Lance and Keith fall to self-sabotage. Shiro lies down and closes his eyes.

"Aww, don't tell me you're gonna nap? The ocean's right there."

He cracks an eyelid to see Lance flop down into the sand next to him. "I'm fine here," he lies.

"Seriously? It's like a million degrees out."

"I'm fine."

Lance leans down on his elbow and looks straight at him. " _Really?_ Because I could totally use you out there, man. We need a chicken fight rematch."

Shiro chuckles. "Why not you and Pidge versus Hunk and Keith?"

"Uh, because we'd be at a disadvantage? Have you ever even played chicken, Shiro?"

"Of course I have," he says, and closes his eyes.

"Okay, spill," Lance says, and Shiro opens an eye again, confused. "What's up, for real?"

"Hm?"

"What's your real reason for not wanting to swim with us? Do you hate the ocean? Do you hate us? Seriously, what is it?"

"Of course I don't hate you." Shiro sits up.

"So you hate the ocean."

"No, not especially."

"Uh-huh, so, why won't you swim with us?"

No good reason, Shiro thinks. He looks away and subconsciously rubs what's left of his right arm.

"Your arm?" Lance asks, and Shiro starts. "No, we've all seen it. Something else you don't want us to see?"

He can't even respond, just stares at Lance, agape.

"Something embarrassing, maybe? A tattoo? Oh my god, Shiro! Did you get a _tramp stamp?_ "

"Wha--no!"

"You sure?" Lance actually reaches around and pulls the back of Shiro's shirt up, as Shiro makes an indignant noise and tries to jerk away. "Nope, no tramp stamp." He lifts the shirt higher. "There's nothing but scars here. Maybe on front? Nipple piercings? I gotta see that, dude."

"No, no--I--you aren't bothered by the scars?"

"...No?" Lance says, still with a fistful of Shiro's shirt. "You've got scars everywhere else, dude. Wait, is that why?"

"I thought..."

"That we'd be bothered by your scars? Then, nope, I'm not, and I don't think any of them will be." Lance gestures out at the ocean, where the other three are still swimming. "You can swim in your shirt if it bothers you that much, but really. We're your friends. We're not gonna be, I dunno, grossed out or something." He gets up, stretches, and tries to brush off some of the sand clinging to him. "Ugh. I'm going back in. Are you coming?"

Shiro hesitates. Lance waits.

"Sure," he says finally, and stands. He pulls off his shirt and watches for Lance's reaction; Lance eyes flick down over his chest, but return to his face quickly.

"So, are you coming?"

"Yeah," Shiro says, and tosses the shirt aside to walk down toward the ocean. Excited yells greet him.

"Gonna be honest, I'm disappointed you _don't_ have nipple piercings," Lance says. "You should get them."

"Absolutely not."


	6. day 6: lindy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is...... about as long as all the rest combined so far lmao. heads up

Shiro first saw Lance out the window of the train on his way home. He was silhouetted in the window on the second floor of a nondescript brick building by the tracks, motionless, looking out across the edge of the city. It seemed melancholy, somehow, and Shiro wanted to know why.

Now he's standing nervously in the same room he glimpsed through that window, which has turned out to be a dance studio, and Lance is a dance instructor, actually--but, not the one that's currently reprimanding Shiro on his shoddy footwork.

"Left, _then_ right," Allura tells him sharply. "If you step with your right first, you'll be stomping on your partner's foot. Again!"

Shiro sighs inwardly and tries again. Dammit, he just wanted to _talk_ to the guy, but here he is, learning to cha-cha. At least the other two guys in the "class" are similarly beleaguered, by the looks on their faces... though probably not for the same reason.

"Hunk, you need to be lighter on your feet."

"That's, uh, physically impossible--"

"It's not! Do it again! And Keith, stop snickering, you aren't doing any better!"

Yeah... this isn't what Shiro signed up for.

Actually, it's _exactly_ what he signed up for, for the next six weeks. He just hopes he'll actually get the chance to talk to Lance before it's over.

Speaking of. "Bye, Lance!" one of the other instructors calls, as the man in question crosses the room towards the door. Lance waves at the speakers and calls back, "Bye!" and then he's gone.

"Pay attention, Shiro!" Allura says, and he starts, not even realizing he'd been staring. This is going to be a long six weeks.

The classes are three times a week, in the evening after work. Shiro learns quickly that he has to pay full attention to Allura and his own dancing; at best he'll get reprimanded, at worst he'll collide with Keith and send them both reeling into Hunk, toppling the entire class. _That_ was a fun evening.

But he feels less like a stalker if he actually focuses on the lessons, and... he actually enjoys it, surprisingly. He never really thought of himself as a dancer--and, well, he isn't--but just knowing he _can_ pull off a passable cha-cha makes him more confident somehow. And he and Hunk and Keith go out for drinks every Friday after class, so he kind of feels like he's got a social life again.

At the end of the third week, Allura gives them a choice.

"You can continue with the cha-cha, if you want," she says. "And I don't blame you if you don't."

Lance and Pidge, another instructor, are watching; both snort almost simultaneously.

"On the other hand, you may also choose another style for the remaining three weeks. I and my fellow instructors will demonstrate a few for you now, and next week you can make your decision."

The three of them variously pair off to demonstrate the tango, waltz (there are two waltzes! Shiro never knew), foxtrot, rumba, samba... he loses track after a while. They all look like fun but none really grab him, and he's resigning himself to three more weeks of cha-cha until Allura says, "And the last one: lindy hop."

"My favorite!" Lance exclaims, and bounces forward to join Allura.

"Y'all might want to back up," Pidge drawls, and the three men obediently shuffle backwards. She starts the music. It's a jaunty tune, and Shiro starts to feel a little hopeful.

And then they start dancing.

It's a very fast dance, very energetic--and it looks like _so much fun_. Lance is grinning widely, and even Allura looks happy. It also looks like it'll be hard to learn, hard to dance--but Shiro has decided. _This_ is the dance he's gonna pick. The look on Lance's face is enough to make him certain.

Over the weekend, he looks the dance up on YouTube and spends hours watching videos.

"Lindy hop, huh?" Allura says when he declares his choice. "I'll hand you off to Lance, then." And she turns and calls over her shoulder, "LANCE!"

"Yo!" Lance pops out of a side room. Shiro's heartrate skyrockets. He's come to like the dancing, sure, but Lance hasn't stopped being _attractive_.

"You got a convert." Allura nods to Shiro and returns to the rest of the class. Lance all but skips over.

"Yesss," he says. "I saw your face when we danced before, I was hoping you'd pick lindy. Usually everyone gets scared off."

"Oh, uh. Well, it looked like fun," Shiro stutters.

"It is! Come on, let's get started."

Shiro trips over his own feet five times during the hour-long lesson, and over Lance's feet twice. The dancing is hard enough but it's _Lance_ he's dancing with and that makes it so, so much harder.

Lance doesn't seem discouraged by Shiro's two left feet, though, and waves him off at the end of the lesson with a cheerful, "See you on Wednesday!" Shiro practices the steps alone in his apartment.

On Wednesday, Lance greets him with a grin and a wave, and it's a little easier to handle.

On Friday, Shiro works up the nerve to ask Lance to join him and his classmates--though they've all split off to be taught by different instructors now--for a drink.

Lance opens his mouth to respond.

"Don't you dare say no," Pidge says, walking by.

"...Yes, I was going to say yes," Lance says. "Just lemme grab my coat."

Hunk engages Lance in conversation as soon as they cross the street to the train station. Keith looks a little sour, and at first he only speaks to Lance to disagree with him; he loosens up after a couple drinks though. Shiro, frankly, also finds it easier to talk to him after a couple of drinks as well.

Finally, Hunk declares he ought to go home, and Shiro agrees. They tip the bartender and shuffle out into the cold night air.

"Thanks for inviting me," Lance says. "I haven't done this in a while."

"You're welcome to join us again next week," Shiro says.

"Totally," Hunk adds, and even Keith nods.

"I think I will," Lance says, smiling at them.

On Monday, though, he seems a little distant. He still runs Shiro through the steps, still smiles and congratulates him when he gets it right--but something seems off. Shiro asks Pidge if he's okay.

"Oh," she says. "He always gets like this when there's a competition going on nearby. I'm not gonna say more than that, though." She narrows her eyes at him. "I think you should ask him about. Just, uh, be gentle."

On Wednesday, Shiro asks _Lance_ if he's okay.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine, you didn't step on me _that_ hard."

"Ah, no, I meant... generally." Shiro glances away, then quickly back as Allura's voice nags in the back of his head to _always look at your partner, Shiro, you’re not dancing with the wall_.

"Oh. I'm fine," Lance says. It's not very convincing. "Thanks for worrying about me."

"...Sure."

On Friday, he declines Shiro's invitation.

"I've got stuff to do, errands to run, you know," he says, and Shiro doesn't miss the disappointed look Pidge gives him.

"He used to be so excited to dance lindy," Allura says as Shiro is shrugging on his coat, not really _to_ him, but there's no one else close by.

"Hm?"

"I hope he hasn't lost all his enthusiasm for it," she adds, gives him a pointed look, and walks away.

He has the sense there's something that they aren't telling him. Also that they're expecting him to _fix_ it, somehow.

On Monday, when he walks into the studio, Lance is standing quietly by the window, just like he had been when Shiro first saw him. This time Shiro walks right up to him, though. He's not so afraid to talk to him anymore, and anyway, this is the last week. He's running out of time.

"Hey," he says.

"Oh, Shiro." Lance turns. "You're early."

"Ah... no? It's six."

"...Oh."

There's a pause.

"Is everything okay?" Shiro asks. "If... if you don't want to dance with me, I'm sure Allura would take me back..."

"What? No, no, I like dancing with you! Really," Lance says quickly. "You've improved a lot. I just..."

"You just...?"

"Nothing. Let's get started, shall we?"

That day, Lance leaves before Shiro can even say goodbye.

On Wednesday, Lance seems back to his bright and chipper self, and Shiro is relieved--until Pidge shows up late, waving a piece of paper.

"I got third!" she yells. "Allura, I got third!" And Lance freezes in place, and Shiro all but collides with him, almost knocking them both over.

"Hush, Pidge!" Allura chides quickly, shooting Lance a look, but it's too late. Lance takes a couple of steps away from him, and Shiro frantically searches for something to say.

"Oh, shit. Lance, I'm sorry--" Pidge says, but Lance is already grabbing his coat and walking out the door, leaving Shiro standing alone in the middle of the studio.

"Okay," he says slowly, "what the _hell_ is going on?"

Allura looks tired. Pidge looks guilty. (Hunk and Keith look very confused.) Shiro moves to follow Lance, and the two instructors get in his way.

"Shiro, please listen," Allura says. "You must have figured it out, at least a little, by now."

He sighs and rubs his forehead. "I gather it has to do with a competition, and lindy hop, but no one's told me more than that," he says. "Are you going to now? Are you expecting me to fix this somehow? I barely know him."

Which is completely true, honestly, and he's a fool for thinking Lance would ever open up to him.

"But you want to, right?" Pidge says.

"You," he says, "told me to be _gentle_." She looks away.

"Pointing fingers won't get us anywhere," Allura says sternly. "Pidge, you should have been more careful, but Lance should be able to handle this by now. Shiro... I shouldn't say what happened, exactly. But suffice it to say he used to compete at lindy, and no longer does. I had hoped that by your interest in it, and in _him_ \--" Shoot, was he really that obvious? "--he might move on and go to competitions again, or at least not be so sour about it."

"That doesn't seem to have worked."

"I think it's worked a little," Pidge says. "He just needs more time."

"You need to talk to him on Friday," Allura says. "Or, at least, we would seriously appreciate it. An outside perspective could be just what he needs."

"Friday is the last day," Shiro points out. "If he won't talk to me, that's it. What if he doesn't even show up?"

"He'd _better_ show up," says Allura.

"We'll give you the opportunity," Pidge says. "So you'd better take it."

They wait for his answer. He shifts uncomfortably in their gaze. They're not wrong that he wants to get to know Lance better, at least. Maybe they're right that Shiro can help, too.

"Alright," he says. "I'll try."

"Good," says Allura. "I'll take over your lesson for the rest of the evening. Pidge, apologize."

"Yes, ma'am," says Pidge, and trots off. Shiro is almost glad to be subjected to Allura's strict instructions again--it gets his mind off what he's supposed to do next class...

Lance does show up on Friday, a little late, but otherwise acting like he hadn't walked out in the middle of the lesson last time. He doesn't even apologize, just greets Shiro with a "Hey! Let's get started." and moves straight into the lesson. It's definitely not the same.

And at the end, he says merely, "Great job, Shiro! I hope you enjoyed your lessons!" and tries to escape. Tries--Pidge and Allura stop him, delaying him until Shiro has his coat and everything ready to go. They mysteriously make themselves scarce when he approaches the group, leaving only Lance.

"Hey," Shiro says. "Will you come out with us tonight? Celebrate our completion of the class?"

"Oh, heh, thanks, but I'm not really feeling up to drinking tonight."

"Then, coffee?"

"I'm not really up for a crowd tonight either way."

"Then, just with me? Just the two of us." Shiro is determined. It's his last chance and he's not going to let it go. He's not going to let Lance just slip out of his grasp.

"Just the two of us," Lance repeats slowly. "Getting coffee. On a Friday night."

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes him. "Well. If you insist."

"...If you don't want to--"

"Shiro." Lance actually presses a finger to Shiro's lips, silencing him. "I only do what I want to do. I said yes, I meant yes. Let's go?"

Lance's finger is still against Shiro's lips. He nods.

"Good." And Lance does actually seem pleased as he leads the way out of the studio. Shiro sends a quick text to Hunk--"Sorry to ditch you, would be happy to hang out with you guys again sometime!"--and follows Lance across the street. He gets a text back shortly: "No prob! We're rooting for you!"

He puts his phone away, feeling warm, and just hopes this'll work.

So, they get coffee. Actually, Shiro gets coffee (decaf), and Lance gets hot chocolate with extra whip. The cafe is almost empty.

"Um... Sorry," Lance says after a while.

"For what?"

Shiro dumps another spoonful of sugar into his coffee and stirs slowly. Lance takes his time responding.

"...Leaving in the middle of the lesson, the other day," he says finally.

"Is that all? It's fine, Allura stood in for you."

"And how was that."

"She certainly didn't match your enthusiasm." Shiro stresses the word just a little, and Lance flinches, just a little.

"I like lindy," he mumbles.

"I know. That's part of why I chose it," Shiro says. "You looked like you were having fun, during the demonstration. I..." Now he has to be careful, not to cross the line from genuine to creepy. "I wanted that."

"Not a lot of fun in your life, huh?"

"Not really, no."

They fall silent again. Shiro sips his coffee. Lance stirs the whipped cream atop his hot chocolate with a coffee stirrer.

"Also, sorry for trying to run away tonight."

"You're here now."

"And for not going out with you guys last week."

"We missed you, but it's not a big deal. And you're still welcome to join us some other time."

"And for moping and, I don't know, being off my game..."

"I hardly noticed."

Lance huffs. "Are you going to forgive all my shortcomings?"

"Is that what you want?" Shiro calmly sips his coffee and puts the mug back down. "Forgiveness?"

Lance's mouth opens and closes a few times. "I, uh... maybe? Fuck, I don't know." His whipped cream has all but dissolved into his drink by now.

"I know we don't know each other very well," Shiro says carefully. "I'm not someone you can really talk to yet. But I think I'd like to be, someday."

"I think you'll probably regret that," Lance says. Shiro shrugs.

"I'm willing to try."

Lance stares at him for a minute, then covers his face with his hands and sighs. "Okay," he says, and lowers his hands. "Why did you sign up for dance lessons?"

Oh. Well, Shiro supposes it's best he continue to be honest.

"I saw you in the window," he says, "on my commute home. I wanted to know what was going on up there, so I went up to find out."

"And Allura threatened you into taking lessons?" Lance cracks half a smile, and Shiro returns it.

"Pretty much, yes." He finishes his coffee. Lance finally takes a sip of his drink, and makes a face.

"It's cold," he says.

"You stirred all your whipped cream into it."

"That's a goddamn tragedy." Lance frowns at his cup, then shrugs and drinks more of it anyway.

"So, what about you?" Shiro asks.

"What about me?"

"Why do you dance?"

Shiro has a feeling this question is going to get him somewhere. By the mild alarm on Lance's face, so does he.

"Well... I guess I've just always done it. My mom signed us all up for mambo lessons when we were kids--it was like a family tradition. Most of my siblings stopped after a few years, but I stuck with it."

"How long have you been dancing, then?"

He hums. "A little less than twenty years?"

Shiro raises his eyebrows. "Impressive."

"Mm, I guess. I just love it too much to give it up..." Lance's voice trails off.

"When did you start lindy hopping?"

"College. I joined the swing club because the other groups were for beginners or assholes."

Shiro chuckles, and Lance grins.

"And now you get paid for it," Shiro says.

"Well, I made some money before from comp-competitions..."

Lance looks startled, as though he hadn't meant to speak at all. Shiro raises an eyebrow and waits, until Lance pulls himself together and sighs.

"How much did they tell you?" he asks. "About what happened?"

"Next to nothing."

"Good, because otherwise I'd have to have a serious talk with them, and Allura and Pidge are both _terrifying_." He gives a nervous sort of laugh and drums his fingers against the tabletop. "It's probably not as big a deal as you're thinking."

"I'm thinking nothing, honestly," Shiro says. "You don't have to tell me."

"I feel like I should." Lance swirls his cold hot chocolate around in its mug, and takes a gulp. "Maybe... maybe not yet." He puts the mug down. "Can we go for a walk, or something? I know it's late but if I just keep sitting in one place I'll go crazy."

"Sure," Shiro says, and puts his coat back on.

It's dark, and cold, but it's Friday night, so the streets are far from empty here in the city. Shiro and Lance walk quietly, hands in pockets and elbows brushing. They stop, eventually, halfway across a bridge over the river, and look out over the dark water.

"I had a fall at a competition," Lance blurts suddenly. "I don't know what happened. We just, tripped, and fell, right in front of the judges. My partner blamed me."

Shiro looks at him quietly.

"She refused to dance with me again. My whole family was there to watch me fail. And now every time there's a competition, I have to remember."

"I'm sorry," Shiro says.

"Don't be, it's not your fault."

"...Was it yours?"

Lance's face screws up. "No! I tried to stop us from falling, Shiro, I tried to _save_ her. But she blamed me anyway."

"Rude of her."

"Will you take this seriously!? Here I am, spilling my heart out to you--"

Shiro turns and takes him by the shoulders. "Lance, if it wasn't your fault, then you have nothing to be ashamed of," he says. "It was an accident, right? Accidents happen. You can wallow in it, or you can get out there and make sure your second impression is better than your first."

"First of all, it was my sixth competition at least--"

"So make your seventh impression better than your sixth."

"--Second, you think I should get over the competition by going to _more_ competitions?"

"Sure. Find a new partner and make some new memories."

Lance regards him for a moment. " _You're_ not ready to compete," he says.

"I wasn't suggesting myself," Shiro says with a smile, feeling like they've finally hit a breakthrough. Maybe, just maybe, it'll be uphill from here. "I thought perhaps you could ask Allura." He lets go of Lance's shoulders.

"Eh. Allura _hates_ lindy."

"Do you think she'd humor you for a competition or two? I'm sure she and Pidge would be delighted to see you get back out there."

"Well," says Lance, leaning on the railing again to look down the river again,  now smiling slightly. "I think you're probably right about that." He glances over at Shiro, as he joins him at the railing. "Maybe you were right about the forgiveness thing after all, too... hey, thanks."

"Anytime," Shiro says, and means it. They lapse into silence again, but it's a comfortable silence, until Lance yawns.

"Well, it's late," he says finally. "I'll see you Monday?"

"The lessons are over as of today."

"Oh, shit, are they really?" Lance pulls up the calendar on his phone. "Damn. Well, you can come in anyway. Once I tell them the plan the girls'll probably want to thank you." He grins. "And I can teach you more lindy. Just sayin'."

"Maybe I will," Shiro says, smiling, knowing full well it's not a maybe. "While you have your phone out, can I give you my number?"

"Heh, go for it," Lance says, handing it over, and Shiro types it in quickly before his fingers go numb. He sends himself a quick text to get Lance's number, too.

"Thanks," Shiro says. "I'll see you around?"

"Yep. We should do this again sometime," Lance adds. "But with less of me being a stubborn idiot."

Shiro laughs. "Certainly," he says. "I'll see you on Monday."

And when he gets off the train on Monday, across the street from the dance studio, Lance is upstairs, silhouetted in the window, waiting for him.

 


	7. day 7: eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated version [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10793226).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn self, back at it again with the superhero au... this ones a PREQUEL to day 2! also feat. bonus: dark!shiro, for all of like... two seconds lol

Lance just wants to get paid, dammit.

Tonight, though, there's a battle going on downtown, and somebody put up some kind of barrier that doesn't let supers through, only civilians--woe betide the poor saps still on this side with the fighters--so Lance can't get back to his employer until the fight is over. So he crouches on top of somebody's roof and ignores the glares the pigeons are giving him.

And their droppings. He can't wait to get home and take a fuckin' shower, this roof is disgusting.

It does grant him a nice view, though, even if he has to deal with the occasional hero or villain popping by to give him a dirty look--everyone knows he doesn't work for free.

"Sup, Permafrost," a voice says right in his ear, almost startling him off his perch.

"Fuck! You gotta stop doing that, dude."

"Mm, nope." The speaker flickers into view, grin first--though he's pretty sure that's just for the aesthetic. "It's more fun this way."

"I hate you, Kitty."

" _Cheshire_ , asshole."

"Cheshire Kitty. Whatever."

She huffs and lets it go. "So? Seen anything good, O Icy One?"

"Nope. Same old, same old. Buncha heroes, buncha lackeys--no big baddies."

"Figures. I assume you're not getting involved."

"Nope. You know me."

"Unfortunately, I do. Well, I'm heading down." She stands and stretches. "Unlike you, I'm not averse to a good deed now and then."

"You just wanna make the lackeys piss themselves."

She snickers. "You got me there. Stay frosty, Frosty."

"You know I will," Lance says, as she slides down the roof towards the edge.

"Um," she says moments later. "I'm gonna need a hand here, buddy."

Lance grins almost as widely as her namesake. "Did the kitty get caught up a tree?"

"Shut up and get me down!"

"Just jump, you'll land on all fours."

" _Permafrost!_ "

"Alright, alright. But you owe me," he says, and slips down the roof to join her. "Get on my back."

"...No."

"Do you wanna get down or not? It's piggyback time, buddy."

"Ugh," she says, but acquiesces. He adjusts his gloves and places a palm against the gutter, grinning.

"Hold on tight," he says, and slips off the edge onto a massive icicle like a fireman's pole. His gear keeps them from sliding _too_ fast but it's fast enough that she screams in his ear the whole way down anyway.

"I hate you _so much_ ," she says.

"But I did get you down safely."

She grunts. " _Later_ ," she says, and flickers out of sight--he hears her footsteps running off.

And now he's on the ground. Well, the fight was dying down--the barrier will probably go down soon, and he can finally get paid and go home. He slinks out of the alley to make his way down the street but something stops him in his tracks.

It's a _presence_. Something dark and cunning, that makes him wither where he stands. Shit--this is no lackey.

The source comes around the corner shortly--tall, black robed, and with a cruel, inhuman purple skull for a mask. _Shit_ \--this isn't just "no lackey", this is the _boss_. And Lance is caught right in his path.

"Permafrost," he rumbles. Oh god, he knows who he is. Oh god.

"H-hey..."

He walks right up to Lance, so close Lance can see the skin around his glowing yellow eyes through the eye sockets of his mask. "Are you going to interfere?" he growls.

"N-nope. Stayin' out of it, thanks," Lance squeaks.

"Wise of you," The Emperor says, and then he sweeps on by, followed by a couple of really muscled guys dressed all in purple and black, which is a hell of an aesthetic and if Lance weren't scared shitless he'd be seriously impressed.

One of the retinue looks straight at Lance, just for a moment. His eyes also glow yellow, but his right hand glows purple.

Then the whole party passes out of sight, and Lance can move again. He sags against the nearest wall and just breathes for a while. He can't help but think that if he'd ever actually picked a side--if he'd chosen to be a hero--he'd be dead now.

He gets paid and takes his shower but it's not as satisfying as usual, not with those glowing yellow eyes so fresh in his memory.

-

A few months later, the news comes out that The Emperor was taken down by one of his own. And Lance may not have picked a side, and he'd still rather get paid in _money_ than in gratitude--but he breathes a sigh of relief along with the rest of the city. No other villain presented quite as serious a threat to everyone, super or not.

He doesn't think about the man with the glowing hand again... at least, not for a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! :D


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